


blue

by ilikepie1079



Series: Blue+Red=Purple [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Genderfluid Pidge | Katie Holt, Heartbreak, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Modern AU, Slow Burn, beginning is poetry-esque, bi!lance, brief nyma/lance, it will slowly turn into full out writing, klance, lance is bi-sexual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9425768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikepie1079/pseuds/ilikepie1079
Summary: everything is blueuntil one is introduced to the color redand then there is the creation of purple~Lance's love story. With all the bumps and cracks in between~





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi~!  
> This is my first Klance fic and my first work in the Voltron series!! Wow, I'm excited.  
> This is loosely based on this life-changing book, milk and honey by rupi kaur. It helped be get through a rough time and ease some writer's block I had been having trouble with for months.  
> Please read it! This fanfic is nothing like it but it really inspired me to write this.
> 
> ***The structure of this fic is my like poetry in the beginning, but as time goes on it slowly turns to that of a novel***
> 
> Please enjoy!

he thought they were going to last forever. he thought that they would rule the world together with their love. he thought that she was the one. the girl he was going to marry. he thought they were in _love_ and there was nothing that could break the amazing bond in between them and that she was number one and that she loved him and that she would never hurt him or break his heart. he thought that they weren’t like the millions of other couples and that breaking up wasn’t even an option. but that’s what love does to you.

it blinds you from reality.

it makes you see only what you want to see.

it poisons your view and ruins your mind. you don’t see the distance that forms. you don’t see the way the sparkles in your partner’s eyes fade. you don’t see the heartbreak coming.

you don’t understand why you’re numb at first when she says, “I can’t do this anymore, Lance. I’m sorry, but we’re just not what we used to be. Time wore us down and I guess, I just don’t love you anymore.”

those words rip his soul to shreds. his heart lies on the ground, trying to put itself back together; but it’s like broken glass, the shards don’t fit and they’re too sharp to pick up. everything just hurts and _bleeds_.

then she walks away and all he can do is hurt. he leaves the coffee shop and goes home.

all he sees around him is her. all he can hear is her. all he can taste is her. all he can smell is her. all he can feel is her. everything is _her_ and everything is broken and everything is pain.

it all _blurs_ together.

 

he goes home and sobs. he collapses on the floor and shrieks as the pain tears through him. the scene just replays. all he can do is cry.

he falls asleep with tears still in his eyes.

 

he wakes up.

he takes a shower.  
it’s way too hot but he doesn’t feel anything. everything is just numb.

his chest has a soft ache. but that’s the price one must pay for a broken heart.

he burned himself. but it doesn’t matter.

he puts on sweats because that’s the only thing he can do.

he grabs food because the pain in his stomach starts to match the one in his chest. it doesn’t matter what he eats. just as long as one pain subsides.

he lays down on the couch with tortilla chips. the crunches from the chips help tune out the repeating mantra of her words in his head.

he watches youtube videos on his phone, trying to distract himself from all the noise and confusion in his brain.

it numbs him. youtube becomes soft and safe. just watching videos that others have created. he doesn’t laugh but manages to crack a millisecond smile.

and that’s enough for him.

 

the next day, he eats a whole tub of ice cream.

he tries watching tv.

all he can think about is movie night with her.

he shuts off the tv.

he tries going on social media.

he is reminded of statuses and other people and how everyone is happy except him.

he exits social media.

he tries to get up and move.

he sees his car keys and remembers late nights with her and speeding down the road and laughing about funny things and singing to their song and the soft touches she would lay on his arm.

he dumps his ice cream tub in the trash, grabs another one and runs back to the safety of the couch.

he ends up spending more time on youtube, letting the app numb him.

he doesn’t smile at all that day.

it hurts too much.

 

he learns how to knit.

it helps calm him and steady him. it demands him to focus on something other than his broken heart. he goes through another tub of ice cream.

he watches more youtube videos.

he numbs the pain.

he begins to start eating cheeze-it’s and pretzels. those were the two snacks she never touched within his cabinet.

the salt on the two gave him a new taste, different than the ice cream. it reminds him that he’s still alive. his taste buds call out to him like whos. “we are here! we are here!”

it helps.

it helps to know that he’s still on earth.

maybe it will be okay.

 

he wants ice cream.

mint chocolate chip ice cream.

but he doesn’t have any. cheeze-it’s and pretzels have lost their zest. he needs to taste something sweet.

the mint will help him heal. the chocolate will make him smile.

he looks to his car keys.

his whole body shakes with pain.

he looks away, unable to take it.

tears start to dot in his eyes. no no no keep it together lance. we promised that this wouldn’t happen again.

he grabs his phone. he goes to open youtube but hesitates.

 _can you get me some mint chocolate chip ice cream?_ he texts.

_Of course I can_

 

Hunk shows up a few minutes later.

he doesn’t say anything at first. just gives lance this look of pity and sadness.

lance frowns. he doesn’t want pity. he just wants ice cream.

Hunk gives him a spoon and stocks his freezer with mint chocolate chip.

lance eats, finally feeling content. Hunk sits with him on the couch, talking about meaningless things.

Hunk smells like Hunk: old spice, sugar, homemade cookies, freshly cut wood and the soft underlying smell of firewood. lance feels so at ease. and finally, lance feels like it’s okay.

lance sinks into Hunk’s arms, letting himself be consumed by the embrace of his friend.

he lets himself break down. he cries. he tells Hunk everything. he shows his heart to Hunk and tells him all of his feelings and Hunk just hugs him and says it’s going to be alright.

and lance starts to feel like Lance again.

they spend the rest of the time just talking. well, it’s Hunk talking to lance about everything that’s going on.

it’s nice. it starts to make lance feel in touch with the world again.

and it’s okay.

 

for the rest of the week, lance starts to move around. he starts to tidy things up, like all the stuff in his bedroom and all the food in his pantries.

he clears out all the old stuff, all the stuff that she liked but he hated. it starts to hurt a little less.

he clears out all her stuff from his room. that’s when he cries again. he cries over the memories but this time, he feels like he’s finally starting to move on.

he finds old pictures that were taken by his polaroid camera. he knows he shouldn’t look through them. so, he only glances and keeps a stoic face. he throws most of them out, along with all of the food. he only keeps one or two and hides them deep within his drawer. he needs to remember the experience, because that’s what life is.

life is just a bunch different experiences.

he does his laundry. it feels refreshing. cleaning things.

he cleans his apartment. he feels useful.

he scrubs away all the memories and leaves a lemon scent behind in his wake.

he cries. but he moves on.

he doesn’t take a shower, but does change his clothes.

the soft cotton on him makes him feel clean and new. it’s like the cap of a scab came off, revealing new and fresh skin. he knows he’s not done healing, but this is a step in a new direction.

he gathers her stuff and throws it in a box. he knows she’ll come back and return all his stuff. he’ll ask her to and hold her stuff for ransom. he’s not ready to talk to her though.

he deletes her number and unfollows her on everything except twitter. he still remembers all her usernames and her phone number is still retained in his fingers. but it’s still a step in the right direction.

lance looks at his car keys.

he’s still not ready. but he’s getting there.

 

when he finally takes a shower, it’s the hardest thing to do.

he stands under hot water, scrubbing as hard as he can.

he’s trying to scrub away all the touches, the handprints, the words, the memories that are retained within his skin. he washes and rewashes and rewashes. he sobs knowing it won’t every go away.

all he can do is surrender himself to water and soap, hoping if he scrubs hard enough it will all go away.

his hair is filthy and it feels good to comb his fingers through it. but it still hurts. she used to play with his hair when he was too tired to do anything. they would lay on the couch together, his head perched in her lap. he would close his eyes and surrender himself to her light touches. her hands would whisper against his scalp.

he cries the pain away.

he huddles on the floor of the shower. his sobs wrack his body, the tears never stopping.

it takes a long time for him to gather himself up, finish washing and turn off the water.

he wraps himself up in a towel and looks in a mirror.

no longer is her plagued by her delicate scent. he smells like him.

and though his eyes are red and puffy, he realized he’s one more step closer to moving on.

 

he finally gets out of the house.

driving lends a new way to cope, making him focus on the road. the hum of the car and the radio help soothe his mind. the soft jostles the road gives remind him that the earth isn’t a perfect sphere. nothing is. everything has grooves and bumps and scars and pimples.

nothing is perfect.

he goes to fill up the gas and clean it. her scent is finally gone from it. her memories are washed away.

he’s moving on.

he still can’t listen to slow music without thinking of her. but, that’s okay. he changes the radio often, but he doesn’t mind.

 

meeting up with his friends actually helps him quite a lot.

they talk about everything. video games, hot girls, jobs, the internet, new and old tv shows, movies, yadda yadda. just the three of them in the Starbucks near lance’s apartment.

it’s refreshing to be back in the world of the living.

lance even participates in the conversation, letting himself speak for the first time in weeks. it’s really nice. just relaxing with his two friends already marks a new feeling of confidence back into him.

it went well until Pidge says her name.

“I heard about Nyma.”

instantly Hunk goes completely silent and gives Pidge the dirtiest look lance has ever seen.

“Dude, we talked about not bringing that up. Lance isn’t ready to talk about it.”

“I’m sorry! But, you got to hear all about it and I thought Lance was healing!”

lance’s world crashes. her name brings everything to the ground. he feels the burn in his throat and clenches his fist. he looks down, blocking out the bicker from the other two. he breathes.

 _in_ out. _in_ out. _in_ out.

he gathers up his broken heart and uneven breaths and puts on his game face.

“Guys,” he states, breaking up the fight between the two. “It’s okay.”

he looks up and forces himself to smile.

they both know it’s fake.

“I need to practice it,” lance says. “Smiling at her name.”

“We’re proud of you, Lance,” Hunk provides. “That you’re out here with us and that her name didn’t completely destroy you.”

Pidge gives lance a small smile. “It’s a good thing you’re healing so fast.”

lance nods. “I guess so.”

 

he finally dms her on twitter.

_hey, you can come get your stuff. I have it ready for you to pick up._

it took him a week to write the message and send it.

he doesn’t get a reply until the next day.

_okay._

a minute later she writes.

_i’ll bring all your stuff as well. i’ll drop by tomorrow._

he doesn’t want to see her face. he doesn’t want to be drawn back into the void of love by seeing her beauty again. it would hurt him too much. so he sends,

_drop it off at the door._

he wanted to add, _don’t bother knocking._ but he decided it was too harsh.

he can’t be rude to her. she gave him a wonderful experience. and that was something that he should never hold against her.

 

he stands by the door. he knows she would get there at about eleven o’clock.

she comes right on time.

he hears her footsteps. he hears her set something down on the ground. he hears the clatter of keys. then shifting. then two quick paces.

_just leave._

she finally walks away. once she’s gone, he counts to fifty.

he opens the door. there is a box of all of his stuff. on top of it is the spare key he gave her with a small note on it.

written on it,

_i’m sorry._

lance sobs again that night.

 

he washes everything, nullifying her scent and replacing it with his.

it feels good.

 

he starts to get used to the idea of being alone.

it was weird at first, having been with someone for so long, it felt wrong to go out alone.

but he got used to the foreign feeling. and soon it was natural.

sure, he craved a hand to hold, arms to hug, hair to play with, a body to cuddle, but it was normal to feel like that.

soon, it was foreign to him how another person could fit in his life.

lance was starting to fall in love with solitude.

he was starting to learn more about himself.

lance was starting to equal Lance.

he was finally ready to completely heal.

 

he unfollows her on twitter.

he forgets her number.

he goes out with friends and plays.

he goes to bars and picks up people. he doesn’t have one night stands, but listens and talks to people. it helps.

he goes through life and takes every new things for what it’s worth.

he heals.

he finally is able to hear her name and the world stays intact.

he finally is able to move on from the past and jet into the future.

he finally is able to _live_.

it’s behind him now. months of pain and crying and adversity.

he is finally resilient to the idea of her.

he feels healed.

 

he sees she re-followed him on twitter.

he clicks on her profile.

she now has a new boyfriend. Rolo.

he looks at her pictures.

she looks happy.

sure, it hurts for a few moments.

but then he looks at a picture of Rolo and says “Good luck” under his breath.

he comments under a photo of them together.

_omg congrats on the new man! tell him good luck from me!_

she likes and retweets him.

_thank you! hope you’re doing well!_

he lies.

_never better! and you too!_

she dms him later.

_im glad you’re okay._

he replies

_of course im okay. im Lance._

she replies

_:D_

he echoes her and follows her back.

she was always a nice person. and she granted him a new experience.

lance is indebted to her, in a sense.

sure, he’s still slightly in love with her. he still wants her. he still dreams about her on lonely nights.

but he’s now over it. he’s concluded that she is his past and not his present.

and lance is finally Lance.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter:  
> starr_chiild  
> Tumblr:  
> starr_chiild  
> allforklance


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